At Debate's End
by ventriloquy station literature
Summary: She keeps on showing up in his brain and he's the name that spills from her lips on those oh-so-lonely nights. What's the point of making it all so difficult? Well, it's South Park, for one. Cartman/Wendy.
1. A Voice That Is Dark Like Tinted Glass

"...and that's why I believe that the media uses objectification and sexualization to increase profits in make-up and dieting products." Wendy's voice was clear, loud, and was sure to turn the heads of anyone who had walked by the stage in the cafeteria, which most people had. "So, if you'd like to join me in my campaign to send letters to the companies that use these ideals to sell their products to women, please contact me after school. Thank you!" Bowing, her black hair fell from her shoulder to hang freely in the air. As she stood back up, the Debate Team gave her a round of applause, and so did the Women's Rights Club, and the Mathematics group, until the entire cafeteria was rowdy with jeers and claps. The girl's face flushed, a smile bright on her face, and she walked off the stage, small heels clicking against the steps. She looked like she was glowing, her brown eyes shining and cheeks a brilliant shade of red. Absolutely gorgeous.

And that's when Eric Cartman, self-proclaimed 'genius', and excelling violin player (if he said so himself), realized that he may or may not have stared too hard. He tried to remind himself that she wasn't that pretty, she still had that stupid birthmark on her neck that looked kind of like a star if you got a good glimpse at it and she still had those stupid freckles on the bridge of her nose that she earned after being a Girl Scout in middle school for all three years before quitting because she broke her leg and she still had that stupid way she spoke that she'd always look like she was a bit happy even when she was fuming and _GOD_, he hated it.

He hated all of it.

"Dude," a hand grazed his shoulder, and he turned to see Kyle giving him a concerned expression. To be honest, he hadn't really changed since elementary school. Freckles were everywhere on his face, and probably everywhere else, if Cartman had to guess. His hair, a short mass of thick curls, was still a bright orange, earning him the nickname "Carrot-top" among some of the kids at school. Being a member of the Agriculture Club didn't help the moniker, either.

"What's up?" Eric sneered, turning around fully so that he wouldn't have to spend his time staring at Wendy again. She really was on his mind a lot lately.

"You've got it something awful. You were looking at her like she was a five-star meal, man." The violinist found himself turning red, and letting out a small "tch" in reply.

"I have no idea what you're talking about. She's just a bitch in the Debate Club." Well, not exactly. She was captain of the Debate Club, co-captain of the Women's Rights Club, second to Bebe, and the treasurer of the South Park Charity Movement down the street. Wait, how did he know all that...?

"She's just a bitch in the Debate Club that you're totally sweet on." The ginger retorted, smiling. "Yo, McCormick, you saw him ogling at her too, right?"

"Mmhm!" Nodding, the hooded boy gave them both a toothy grin. "I thought he was spacing out, but nah, that was a total check-out he checked out!" Kenny was too talkative for his liking. After the unfortunate death of his mother, he was picked up by a foster home along with his sister, Karen. He heard from some other kids that they were loaded, but he hadn't really looked for himself.

Kenny and Karen, who was a year younger than them, both worked hard for the South Park Charity Movement, but that's really all Cartman knew. He looked near the same as he did years ago, with shaggy blonde hair and bright blue eyes, and never lost the hood. Sometimes he wonders how that thing still fits, but hey, it's South Park, anything goes.

"Fuck off, guys. I wasn't looking at her. I wasn't even paying attention to her. What was she even talking about, anyway? Something about the sexualization of women in America's society or something?"

"That's exactly what she was talking about."

Shit. He really did have it bad.

"A-anyway," he tried to change the subject, stuttering, "what's everyone doing tonight? I was planning on dropping by Stark's Pond to go smoke one or two."

Kyle took out his iPhone, clearing his throat as if to make an announcement. "I'm going to Ag Club, you know that. Kenny has a promotional dinner to go to for the McCormick-Eisenhower Charity Branch. Stan has football practice again, and you know how all of Team Craig, sans Tweek, does football or track. Coffee kid's working overtime, too." Sometimes, Cartman had to wonder how the hell the boy he picked on in the fourth grade became such a social butterfly.

"Bebe, Red, and Heidi are doing another meeting in the girl's lair with the other chicks. You know how strict they are about those things." Kenny added, chipping in. Karen's probably going to be there too. Dammit.

"What about Wendy?" Cartman blurted, causing the two boys who had previously been blabbering to go silent and look at each other.

"Actually..." Kyle started, flipping through the pages on his phone.

"...he has no idea!" The blond finished, adding a giggle for emphasis. "She told Karen that she wasn't going to the meeting because she was 'busy', and I heard from Clyde that Bebe said Wendy's not going to WR tonight, either." He gave Eric a grin. "You plannin' somethin'?"

"Of course not." Opening a cola with a satisfying pop, he took a large swig. "I was just. Just wondering."

A quiet set of feet tapped by, sliding into a seat next to Kenny. "Wondering what?" She asked. "Come on, guys, I'm part of this group too. You keep forgetting that just because I'm a girl."

Marjorine was a subject no one could really forget about, but at the same time, wasn't something that anyone mentioned until the fateful day in 8th grade that the innocent blonde boy they all knew said that he wasn't exactly a he. Maybe he was a she. No one knew the details for sure in such a confusing time of their lives, but Marjorine slowly came in, and Butters faded out, with no questions asked.

She was a nice girl for South Park standards, with soft blonde curls reaching her shoulders and blue eyes. Eric would even say that she was pretty, but of course, girls aren't important to him at this point. All he needs is his violin and a quiet Friday night like tonight. Which is exactly why he's taking out his phone and asking Kyle what Wendy's number is.

That's _exactly_ why.

Marjorine listened intently as Kenny whispered to her the situation, smile widening at every word and Cartman's grimace growing ever so slightly with it. "Really?" She squealed, voice nearly cracking. "Gosh, Eric, that's awesome! Best of luck to you!"

"Wait, wait, wait!" He barked in reply, eyes glaring like daggers over to the boy. "What did you say, McCormick!?"

"Just that you were going to ask Wendy out. No big." He shrugged, and the brown-haired boy could feel his face setting ablaze.

"One," he held up one finger, trying to mask his embarrassment. "Fuck you, Kenny. Two, I'm not asking Wendy out, and three, I'm going to Stark's Pond alone, for your information. I don't need you guys anyway."

"Fine then," Kyle said, waving his hand nonchalantly. "Do what you want, lover boy. We're not going to stop you."

Eric slipped his phone into his pocket, mumbling angrily as he stood up and left the cafeteria. "Tell my English teacher that my essay's on her desk and my history teacher to look in his third drawer on the right, Kyle."

"Got it. Where are you headed?"

"That's none of your business. Just do what I said, okay?" Carrot-top couldn't really argue, so he turned back to the boy and girl he had been talking to as Cartman opened the double doors and ventured out into the (eternally cold) weather.


	2. Eyes That Burn Like Cigarettes

Wendy was tired. Okay, that was an understatement.

Wendy was, to be light with it, absolutely fucking exhausted.

It was 1:45, and after this, she'd be out the door and headed towards her warm bed at home. Waving at the crowd as she gave a bright smile and walked down the stage steps, she quickly went over to her lunch table with her best friends to tell them that no, she wouldn't be making it to the Women's Right's Club meeting, and no, she wouldn't be able to attend the McCormick-Eisenhower promotional dinner, and she would absolutely not be ruling as judge for the girl's lair because it was totally Heidi Turner's job tonight and if she refused well then FUCK her because they already had the schedule planned.

"Are you sure you don't want to attend? I heard that Annie Nelson is bringing chocolate chip cookies. I know how much you like them, too." Bebe Stevens said, chin in hand. She was a pretty girl, with short bouncy ringlets of dirty blonde hair that reminded Wendy of Shirley Temple and bright brown eyes that would make any boy fall in love.

"Nah, I'm really tuckered out." The dark-haired girl sighed. "Do you know if anyone is heading towards Stark's Pond? I'm going to go take a smoke and maybe listen to some music."

"Hmm," Bebe tapped her chin. "I don't think so." Turning to another black-haired girl, she smiled. "Hey, Jen, do you know if anyone's dropping by Stark's Pond right about now?"

Jenny looked up in thought, and shook her head. "Nope, I can't really think of anyone."

"Perfect." Wendy twirled a lock of hair between her fingers. "I don't need any company. Today, I'd just like a day of relaxation with me, myself, and I."

"Good luck with that, Wendy," Heidi laughed, her brown hair in a high pigtail. "In South Park, I don't even think the word 'relaxation' exists."

"We'll see." With that, she left the cafeteria, waving goodbye to the group and heading out into the cold.

South Park never had a day where it was over thirty-one degrees; Wendy had done a report on the peculiar weather in the fifth grade, and it seems like it's never changed since then. Fresh white blankets of snow-covered the ground where grass might have been, and the sky was a light grey-blue, being nearly cloud free for the first time in months. She smiled, tucking a piece of raven black hair behind her ear. Everything seemed to be evening out. She'd go home, read a bit, take a nap, and that'd be that for the day.

"Oi, Testaburger!"

God dammit. She turned around, and her eyes widened at the sight of Eric Cartman looking right back at her. He was tall. He was tall and thick and broad-shouldered and she was staring and really, really did want to look away. His hair, neck length and a dark brown, was well-kept, and he still had those thick as caterpillars eyebrows that made her smile a little when she looked at them.

"Are you going to keep checking me out, or are you actually going to answer me?" He said, voice deep and way too attractive to be coming from him. Wendy snapped out of her daydream, looking away from the tall boy before answering.

"What do you want, Cartman? I'm trying to take a break from school, not get right back into it." She scoffed, trying to sound intimidating. However, judging by the smirk on his face, it obviously didn't work.

"I'm heading down to Stark's Pond. Would the Great Lady Testaburger care to escort a poor pig for a smoke or two?" She had to stifle a laugh there. His humor, though sometimes crass, always had a place in her heart. They hadn't spoken in years, but she saw him around in the halls on her way to class. Sometimes she even thought that he had stared at her once or twice. Though that was unlikely.

"I was heading down there anyway, so I don't see why not." She tried to play it off as if it didn't mean anything to her, but catching up on things with the guy she hated most in elementary school felt a little important to her. Just a little.

Just a little.

As they walked down the cement, it was mostly silent until Wendy had asked how 'the guys' had been going. He knew exactly which 'guys' she was talking about, too. The four kids who had stood at the bus stop, same place, same time, every year since the fourth grade.

"You know how Kenny's been," he started, his hand slipping into his pocket. "You see him every day at that charity thingy-"

"The South Park Charity Movement." She corrected him with pursed lips, but he pretended that she was just a whisper in the wind.

"Anyway, Kyle's been working in Agriculture Club like no one's business. I'm surprised his fingers haven't turned green yet. Though they should have, seeing as he's handling all that money. Of course he's the treasurer." The memories of Eric's hatred of the boy and his religion gave her a sense of nostalgia. "Stan's still star quarterback. He hasn't been as queasy since you permanently broke it off, so that's a plus." Giving a small chuckle, he remembered that fateful day in tenth grade, in front of nearly everyone, when Wendy officially left her reputation as Mrs. Marsh 2.0 and never went back.

"What about you?" She asked, breath escaping her lips and turning into white wisps in the afternoon air. "You look like you've lost weight. Gym?" She hadn't been lying, either. Cartman looked very top-heavy, with broad shoulders and a thick chest. He almost looked attractive to her. Almost.

"I walk from school to practice," He spat. "And then I walk home."

"Practice?" Wendy's head cocked to the side as she turned to look at him. "For what? Football?" He could be a football player, she mused, but that's if he didn't hate sports so much.

"Violin. Sports aren't my niche." She wouldn't have expected the unrefined slob she knew as a kid to be a violin player. But in a place like this, it didn't seem that surprising in comparison to the everyday conflicts in their little mountain town.

"You could play for the band next semester," she suggested, eyes having a glimmer of intrigue. "I'm interested to see how good you are."

"Oh, please." Letting out a laugh, the small talk ended, replaced with a raucous kind of laugh that made birds flutter their wings and the silent winter air stop in its tracks. "Do you think that the kids in our band can even read sheet music? I'd make them look more like five-year olds playing with musical equipment than they already do."

Wow. Harsh.

"I think they'd love to have a new addition. They've been lacking a violin player for a while since Shauna broke her hand. You remember Shauna, right? Shauna Lee?"

Not at all, but he'd try to remember the name just incase it came up later. "Yeah, sure. Maybe I'll think about it."

They stopped at the wooden sign that read "STARK'S POND" in large black letters, and were overcome with a wave of good times and warm feelings, back when everything was easy. Cartman rustled in his pocket, and Wendy, in her purse, until they had both taken out a pack of cigarettes. Same brand, organic, same color. Looking at each other in confusion, Wendy decided that it would be a good idea to break the slowly rising tension with a joke or two.

"Who's the hippie now, huh?" She sneered, referring to the 'Going Green' box of cigarettes in his hand. "I thought you were all for the destruction of the environment."

"Shut up," he retorted, flicking a lighter in his other hand. "Just shut up and smoke with me. You look prettier when your mouth's not open."

She didn't know if that was a compliment or not, but she would take what she could get.


End file.
